


Red Binders

by NyanTigey



Series: Assassins AU [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Assassins AU, Blood, F/F, Gore, Mark Jefferson warning, Maximus swears like a sailor, Siblings AU, badass assassin stuff happens, creepy photo bunkers, excessive use of guns, mentioned relationships, people's heads explode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:36:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyanTigey/pseuds/NyanTigey
Summary: In a cabin in the woods, behind a bookshelf, lies the secret photography bunker of one Mark Jefferson.AKA the one where Maximus is angry.





	Red Binders

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, inspired by skirtehfox's assassin/sibling AU. They can be found here: http://skiretehfox.tumblr.com/ and you should check out their stuff. They're a good.
> 
> I swear to god, one day my writings will have more dialogue, but Maximus struck me as the sort of person who wouldn't talk a lot when they're on a job. I'm wanting to have one fic dedicated to each character and how they'd go about completing a contract, what kinds of contracts they usually go on, etc.

It was a picturesque scene. The pines pillared ever upwards, dusted with a fine coat of snow. The snowflakes continued to fall, glinting from the light of the pale moon that washed the area in an ethereal glow. The moon herself reflected off the nearby lake, nearly frozen over from the snowfall and winter temperature. Amidst this wintery scene sat a two story house, sitting quietly among the trees. The windows were dark, with barely any signs of life behind the dark oak face. It looked like a postcard one would send for the holidays, complete with a cheesy caption about ‘home is where the heart is’ or some other such bull.

The thought made Maximus scoff. Maybe she’d have to take a picture once she was done, show it to Max. Her younger sister would certainly enjoy the sentiment more than she did. She could appreciate a good picture every now and then, but most of the time she had other matters on her mind. This was one of those times. There were 20 guards in that house, all outfitted to kill her if she dared show her face. Behind those idiots? Her target. She’d have to kill them all to make sure she got the contract completed properly.

Which is what brought her to the tree she was currently crouched under. There was a convenient rock formation next to it, which she rested her sniper rifle on. Visibility wasn’t that great, what with the snow falling and the moon casting strange shadows past the trees, but she had ways around that. She eyed the house once, then reached into the pocket of her suit to tug out a pair of glasses, sliding them on. With a few taps to the side, the landscape was immediately painted in a dull blue color, with the house showing more greenish orange colors. Some red humanoid figures were visible outside the house, mulling about on the porch. Two of them were by the front doors, two more were on the far end of the porch, and four more were on the roof of the house. The rest of the guards were inside, supposedly.

She took a breath and ducked her head to look through the scope, adjusting it quietly for a few moments. Trajectory, wind speed was accounted for. The target wasn’t moving so it was a piss easy shot. He appeared to be smoking and looking through his phone, completely oblivious to the sights trained on him. Not only was he a horrible guard, but he was also an idiot. Surely they knew by now that a Caulfield would be making a visit, she hadn’t been very secretive in her pursuits. She lined up her first shot, double checked everything with a quick glance, and fired as she released her breath. The sniper rifle jumped back into her shoulder and the muzzle barked out a shot, which screamed through the air. 

One of the shapes on the roof fell backwards unceremoniously, head exploding into a shower of red and orange. This alerted the rest of his comrades, two of which scrambled over to help their fallen friend. Apparently they wanted to add ‘sentimentality’ to their list of faults. If someone’s head explodes not two meters away from you, generally the idea is to take cover first, freak out second, but they jumped the gun. It would be a deadly mistake. She lined up another shot, eyes narrowed slightly as she waited. With another muffled bark of the rifle, another bullet plowed through both of them, drilling through one’s spine and through the other’s lungs. They both fell to join their brother on the ground. 

At this point the other man on the roof was screaming into his earpiece, scrambling for purchase on the icy roof as he moved to try and find cover. With a soft tsk and a third tracking shot, the man’s brains were splattered up against the chimney, body slumping onto the roof. Her eyes roved over the scene on the roof to quietly confirm the kills, then she grabbed her rifle, kicking the stand back into place as she moved. She had a silencer, but her gun still made noise, splitting the silence of the night like a hot knife. She figured the rest of the guards on the premises would be of the same caliber as the four on the roof, but she wasn’t one to take chances. She was confident, but even the most confident assassin could make dumb mistakes if they weren’t paying attention.

She had been right to move, since the four other guards outside had been alerted to her presence, both by their screaming comrade up on the roof and the sound of her bullets echoing off the trees. They were in full alert mode, crouching behind the porch’s pillars as they tried to pin down where her shots had come from. She propped her rifle up against the tree she’d taken cover behind, hand traveling down to rest against one of her pistol holsters. Her rifle still had nearly a full clip, but her instincts told her that the pistols would be more useful very soon. She flicked the strap off both of her holsters, but only removed one of the pistols, which glinted maliciously in the moonlight as she held it in both of her hands. The pistol she’d chosen for this occasion was the silenced one out of the pair. It was less powerful than its brother, but it was also quieter. She was still well aware that there were 12 more people inside, not including her contract target, and making too much noise now would draw them out.

The minutes ticked by, but Maximus was as patient as ever. Soon, the guards’ resolve cracked, and two of them gingerly moved away from their cover, towards the rough direction she had been shooting from. Their assault rifles had flashlight attachments, which they were swinging around wildly to light up the darkness. She gave a silent mutter and reached up to push her glasses up onto her head instead, peeking around the tree with narrowed eyes. They apparently had flashlight attachments on their helmets too, which was an unfortunate design choice. She leveled her silenced pistol, waited until the leader stopped, then fired twice. The first bullet bit into his shoulder, sending him spinning from the impact and shock. The second bullet ripped through his nose and sunk into his skull, blood spraying onto the fresh snow. The guard with him stopped, gaping at his dead friend. His hesitance was rewarded with a bullet through his neck, hitting his jugular. He gurgled audibly for a few moments, squirming on the ground with the last of his strength, before he fell still and silent.

She ducked down, back pressed against the tree again as she slid into a crouch. One quick peek at the two other guards on the porch, two more shots, and the night fell quiet once more. She still stayed in her spot for a few more minutes, half expecting some more guards to charge out to try to find her. When nothing happened, she absently reloaded her pistol and pushed off the tree. She reached a finger up idly to flip her glasses back onto her nose to check that the outside was actually secure. Every other heat signature was inside, so she relaxed ever so slightly, making her way over to the two guards in the snow. She grabbed the earpiece off one of them, tugging her own out to replace it with the guard’s one. She was immediately greeted with terrified chatter, asking numerous times for status updates and the shooter’s location. For a moment she was tempted to respond with something edgy and sarcastic, but she refrained. As hard as it was to stop herself, she managed, and flipped the button on the earpiece to mute her mic to fully kill the temptation.

The heat signatures inside seemed to be congregating by the front door, apparently preparing to storm outside and catch their mystery assassin. She decided not to give them the chance, trudging to the house to step up onto the porch. She eyed the front door, then turned abruptly to make her way around to the back entrance instead, lips quirked in an amused smirk. There were no cameras around the place, and the windows were boarded up, so she wasn’t too concerned with being seen. One quick lock picking session later and she was inside, in the kitchen. The majority of the heat signatures were outside, leaving three guards upstairs. She picked her way silently to the stairs, keeping her glasses on since the lights inside the house were off. 

One guard was sitting by a boarded window, trying to peek outside between the boards. She scoffed and leveled her pistol at him, piercing the round through his eye when he turned to investigate the noise she made. His body slumped against the chair he had been sitting in. The two other guards were in another bedroom, checking their guns over quickly. She kicked the door in, drawing her other pistol, sending one silenced shot and one deafening shot through their heads. They sprawled out on the ground, and she heard a shout from the earpiece as the guards outside heard her beast of a pistol. Knowing the jig was up, she checked her pistols over once, and made her way out to watch the guards filter in through the banister as she crouched next to it. 

Two guards stepped past the threshold of the front door, and were immediately greeted by two bullets through their eyes, further alerting their friends outside that there was an assassin in their midsts. She moved quickly from the place she’d shot from, raining a few more bullets down on the group of guards that rushed inside as she relocated. Screams of pain told her that her blind fire had dropped a few of them. She ducked into an empty bedroom and checked the heat signatures. Four of the remaining guards were on the ground writhing, either dead or dying, leaving three more that had taken cover behind different pieces of furniture in the main room. 

With a soft hum, she crept out of the doorway she was hiding in, grabbing a lamp along the way. She tossed the lamp against the opposite wall of the great room downstairs, and one of the guards leaped up at the sound. Her pistol barked out a shot and he was down for the count, bits of his brain decorating the grandfather clock behind him. She lined up the next two shots quickly to finish off the remaining guards, which had poked their heads out of cover for a second too long. She waited a minute, guns at the ready for any more surprises. There were none. One last survey around the place told her the guards were all dead, leaving her target down in his secret bunker.

It had been easy enough, tracking down the man that made the house she was currently in. Architects liked to put their signatures to anything and everything they touched. As secretive as her target was, he’d still bragged once about the hot shot that had built his house. Maximus had grabbed the man, Maxine had broken him in record time, and they’d gotten the full plans to the house. That included the secret entrance to the secret bunker. No one who was planning good things needed a bunker, much less a ‘secret’ bunker, hidden behind a bookshelf of all things. It sounded like something an evil villain of a video game would devise.

She tugged out the earpiece and pocketed it, to replace it with her own. She’d requested radio silence about an hour ago, since she hated talking during her missions, but she’d prefer to have the comm in should anything need to be brought to her attention. After tapping it to make sure it was actually on, she tugged out the necessary book, some pretentious shit about photography, and the bookshelf shuddered as it slid to the side. There was a set of stairs leading downwards behind the bookshelf, lit dimly by lamps along the wall. The man downstairs had heard the commotion upstairs, and was apparently hiding behind something, since his heat signature was crouched, and he had something clutched in his hands. Likely a gun. She smirked faintly at the realization. At least he wouldn’t go down without a fight, that would be boring.

Of course, going down into a secret bunker when the only other person in that bunker was itching to kill you was not a good idea. She took stock of her situation, then spied something interesting on one of the dead guards’ belts. Upon closer inspection, she confirmed that the object was indeed a flashbang. Which was strange, since none of the guards had attempted to use one on her. Maybe they didn’t know how to pull the pin properly. With a soft scoff, she removed the pin, counted to three, then chucked it down the stairs. A few taps to her glasses brought up the flash resistance as she stalked down the steps. She heard the flashbang go off and a man screaming in surprise, as well as the metallic clang of something dropping onto the ground. 

The bunker was dimly lit, with a desk in the corner and shelves behind it, with various cabinets and red binders. There was a comfortable looking couch in the middle of the room, and a small coffee table in front of that. Further to the left of the room was a white backdrop with a chair in the middle, that had leather straps attached to it. The walls were decorated with demented looking black and white photographs, mostly of women in various states of undress and consciousness. To the right of the backdrop was a setup of impressive photography equipment. The only entrance and exit seemed to be the stairs behind her. The man had fallen onto the ground, curled up as he rubbed furiously as his face to get his sight back, glasses askew from his movements. 

Mark Jefferson, his name was. An accomplished photographer, whose pieces focused on more ‘edgy’ content, like domination and submission. He preferred female models and was said to be a pleasant man despite his subject matter. But Maximus knew differently. She knew he was a psychotic creep who drugged and took pictures of women, in this very room. She suddenly felt the urge to burn the bunker to the ground, but refrained, for now. She moved over to the whimpering man and brought her pistol up to shoot his kneecap. He yowled in agony, moving his hands down to hold the bullet wound that pulsed with blood. She kicked his pistol over to the other side of the room and stalked around the desk. She kept an eye on him, but she doubted he’d pose any significant threat.

As soon as she hooked up Chloe’s USB to start downloading everything off the computer, she glanced around the room again. The red binders drew her attention, and she scanned idly over the names. The last binder made her pause, though, and she brought her finger out to brush over the name on the spine. Maribeth Chase. She grabbed the binder before her mind could fully comprehend what was going on, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she opened it. She released a breath when she saw it was empty, then snarled quietly anyway. Jefferson wanted Maribeth in this bunker? The Chases had said he was an enemy that needed to be dealt with, but did they know the extent of danger he posed to them? Her gaze swiveled back to Jefferson, fingers twitching to put a few bullets in his face. But that wasn’t the contract, so she refrained.

Instead of killing him like she so desperately wanted to, she stalked around the desk again and grabbed him by his collar. She hoisted him up, his feet barely touching the ground as she brought her gun around to rest under his chin. Her red eyes narrowed dangerously as she stared at him. His glasses had fallen off at that point, and hs scrambled to grab her wrist, choking softly from the awkward position. 

“Wha-” But he was cut off when her pistol connected with his face, with a satisfying snapping noise. His nose gushed blood and he choked softly on his whimper. She tossed him against the wall of binders and holstered her guns, talking over. He brought up his hands to defend himself, but he was too late. Her fist connected with his jaw, emitting a sickening crunch sound as he fell to the ground. He sputtered blood and whimpered, curling in on himself to continue to try and defend himself. A few more swift kicks to his ribs and his head and he was a sniveling, barely conscious mess on the ground, covered in his own blood and tears. 

“Bastard.” She muttered, tone cold and unforgiving. If he wasn’t useful still she would have continued, but this was still a job, so she refrained. Despite him actively threatening one of the only people she gave a shit about, and her girlfriend, no less, he was useful. If he wasn’t, he deserved whatever Maxine did to him. She liked Maribeth too, so once Maximus filled her in, she definitely wouldn’t hold back.

The computer beeped, breaking her out of her rage filled thoughts. She took a moment to breathe, closing her eyes as she let the breath out again slowly. It was rare that she ever got angry, but something about this weasel of a man set her off. The room was unnerving, and she decided the less time they spent there, the better. So she pulled out the USB to pocket it. She grabbed Jefferson to hoist the unconscious waste of human space over her shoulder, and stalked upstairs with him in tow. She grabbed her sniper rifle and made her way back to her car, which was parked far enough away from the house to not draw attention. 

If she asked nicely, maybe Maxine would let her help with the ‘interrogation’.


End file.
